


We can fix it

by judithandronicus



Series: We Can Fix It [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Apologies, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s03e07 The Gone Fishin' Job, Feelings, Introspection, Missing Scene, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judithandronicus/pseuds/judithandronicus
Summary: Eliot has a bit of a temper, but he's working on it. Alec and Parker help.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: We Can Fix It [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200986
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	We can fix it

__  


Enough’s _enough._

Eliot had ripped the stupid piñata out of Parker’s hands and, as she gasped in horror, tore its goddamn head off.

It seemed like an appropriate response at the time.

Her voice shook as she surveyed the damage. “I’ll fix it. We can fix it,” she said to…to nobody else in the room, really. She was being, y’know, _Parker_ , talking to the idea of someone hiding just outside the frame. “It’s okay.”

The broken look in those bright blue eyes told him it wasn’t.

Okay, maybe tearing the head off her toy wasn’t exactly _appropriate._

_//_

Crowding himself into the corner at the opposite side of the loft, Eliot watches her gather candy and bits of deceased piñata into two neat little piles at the center of Nate’s counter. Her golden brows furrowed, her lips pursed in concentration as she works. When Parker gets in hyperfocus mode, she tends to poke just the tip of her tongue out at the corner of her mouth, like she’s doing now, and it is all Eliot can do not to rush over and kiss her til she can’t concentrate any more. He shifts his stance slightly, just enough to obscure the very distinctive effect watching Parker tends to have on him.

“Now I _know_ you ain’t about to interrupt her while she’s workin,’ brah.” Suddenly, Eliot has six feet of muscle and attitude standing between him and the kitchen, blocking his view of Parker and glaring daggers down at him. Hardison’s jaw is tense, those lush lips tightened into a line, and Eliot desperately needs to make it right. To _fix_ things.

“Alec,” he mutters—yes, _mutters,_ dammit; it is not a whine because Eliot Spencer does _not_ whine—leaning forward to snake his arms around Hardison’s waist, but he’s denied with a single step back.

“Nah uh, man, it don’t work like that.” Hardison presses a broad palm to the center of Eliot’s chest, forcing more distance between them than Eliot wants, but still heating him up from every point of contact. “You need to make it right, so what are you gonna do?”

Eliot flushes, his whole body heating up between the tingle of pressure against his chest and the heat of Alec’s gaze, and he feels the need to squirm under the intensity of that scrutiny. He scowls back, his frustration with himself bubbling up into anger that needs some sort of target, “I don’t know!” Eliot pushes Hardison away with both hands, then scrubs them through his hair as he walks away.

_Shit._

So maybe he slams the door a little harder than he should on his way out, but he’s gotta burn off some of this anger before he has another chance to fuck things up with Parker and Hardison. They don’t deserve his pissy mood, especially not when he brought it all on his own damn self.

_//_

A couple hours and a few bruises and scraped knuckles later, Eliot’s back, staring at the loft door and willing himself to knock. His breath is still a little ragged from the fight because some dumbass punk managed to elbow him in the goddamn trachea. It’s embarrassing, really, how that third dude got him like that. He’d like to say it was because he was so focused on making sure that the couple getting held up got away alright. He’d like to, at least, but it’d be a big fat lie. No, he’s standing here, panting and wheezing, more bruised and bloodied than usual, because he was a stupid asshole and feels bad about it.

This is the trouble with getting attached. It distracts you from the job. It makes you weak, puts a target on your back.

Only…well, that’s not what happened, is it?

_Fuck._

It’s not like he was on a job or something; he went out looking for a fight because…well, because. Because he was asshole, is what it was.

_Goddammit_ , he scolds himself, _nut the fuck up and apologize._

Eliot slides his key into the lock, and slowly, tentatively pushes the door open. Inside, Hardison’s sprawled on the overstuffed sofa, thumbs moving rapid-fire on a game controller, and yelling at the animated orcs or whatever the fuck they are looming larger than life on the video wall. If he notices Eliot’s entrance, he has an excellent poker face, because there’s not even a flicker of acknowledgement as Eliot closes the door behind himself.

Parker is in the exact same spot she was hours ago, still laser-focused on the piñata. Eliot winces as another wave of guilt crashes over him. She’s made impressive progress in the time he’s been gone. Her delicate features are still knit into a mask of unbroken concentration, pink tongue still peeking from between those soft lips, and Eliot is _still_ overwhelmed by how much he wants to kiss them. Wants to make her turn that focus onto him instead of some stupid bit of broken paper mache. Only now, well, it’s not so broken, he realizes with surprise. While Eliot was out trying to beat his guilt into submission, Parker managed some seriously impressive crafting field surgery. The piñata’s head wound is gonna need a new layer of….is that tissue paper?…but it looks like it’s gonna live to annoy him another day. He makes a mental note to get a bag of candy to fill it again.

Eliot’s not sure how long he stays like that, leaning against the door watching them as they each do their own thing, but still somehow completely connected, in sync with each other at an almost preternatural level. How Alec smiles, soft and knowing, when Parker is pleased with herself, even though he’s still focused on that game. How Parker’s whole face lights up when she darts her eyes toward Hardison, flailing those long limbs about the sofa when his horde has done a thing. Eliot imagines the expression on his face is pretty damn goofy, the way it always is when he gets the chance just to observe them like this. His people. His home.

“Hey.” He swallows thickly, his voice a bit raspier than usual thanks to that goddamn elbow. Immediately, he’s got the weight of two pairs of eyes—lush, earthy brown and icy, ocean blue—bearing down on him, looking at him like there’s nowhere else on the entire planet they would rather see, and it’s…a lot. He swallows again, ducking his head down because he can’t take it; he buckles under the intensity of it. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier, Parker. I overreacted.”

The seconds tick by, Eliot just staring at the scuff on the top of his left boot; and it feels like an eternity stretching out before him in absolute silence, and the floor doesn’t even have the decency to swallow him up. His cheeks are flushed, and they aren’t talking, and _why aren’t they saying anything?_ He gulps in a couple of shallow breaths and then looks up. Hardison’s still on the sofa, looking all smug and if he wasn’t so goddamn beautiful Eliot would wanna punch him. Eliot’s cheeks burn even hotter when Hardison’s lips curl into a seductive little smirk, and something inside Eliot’s gut starts to unclench. He takes a deeper breath and turns to where Parker…is no longer sitting at the counter.

His shoulders sagging, Eliot chews on his lower lip in frustration. He heads toward the sofa, hoping that Alec will hold him now, since he’s _trying_ to fix it, dammit.

“Yahooo!”

He moves on sheer instinct, bracing through his core and opening his stance to catch the blonde cannonball in his arms. Parker’s like a cat, that way. Skittish and aloof and mysterious until she’s not. “Apology accepted,” she says, throwing her arms around his neck, “plus, while you were gone I figured out a way to reinforce it.” She kisses his cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and then puts both hands onto his shoulders. Before he knows just what way is up—that girl’s got a way with him, shut up—she’s pressing herself up into a handstand on his damn shoulders, and then somersaulting down to the floor. Eliot has to blink a couple of times, maybe shake his head out a little.

“Like the rig?” Parker beams up at him, unbuckling the harness at her chest, slipping it down her thighs, and giving Eliot _ideas_.

Okay, he’s still a little dazed.

Parker kicks off the rig and slips back into Eliot’s arms, rocking up onto her toes so that she can press her lips against his throat… _fuck._ Right where the jackass caught him. He tenses as she pulls back, oh so slightly, because she’s damn near lethal when she worries, especially if she’s worried because he’s done something stupid, and he really doesn’t want to get tazered tonight.

“Eliot,” she murmurs, somehow making his name into a question, a threat, and a prayer, all in one. Her breath is still hot against his throat, and yeah, maybe it’s calling too much attention to the bruised tissue that’s…well, okay, maybe it’s throbbing just a little, but he deserves it after how he acted. He deserves the throb of the bruise; hell, he deserves for her to be angry and stand-offish as a calico cat that just had its tailed stepped on. But she’s not; no, Parker is still there, her muscular, lithe arms wrapped around his torso, her luscious pink lips still ghosting against his neck, and he wants her so much—not just that, he _loves_ her so much—he aches.

“I handled it, alright?” He doesn’t try to defend himself, to make any excuses, because there aren’t any. Not really.

“I don’t like when you get all stupid and _grrr_ like that.” She tightens her hold around his ribcage, and it’s intense enough to make him aware of where the second guy kicked him, but fuck if that matters when she’s holding on to him for dear life. Eliot lets himself relax into her arms, drops his forehead to rest atop that baby-fine, soft hair, rocking it side to side, to the rhythm of music playing only in his head.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he kisses his apology into that spot between her brows, nuzzling against the furrow until the muscles release, until she lets go of her own tension. “I’ma keep working on it,” he continues, “promise.”

Eliot doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he did, because he doesn’t see Hardison moving until he’s pressed up behind Eliot, a solid mass against his back, tucking his chin over Eliot’s shoulder.

_This._ Eliot lets himself be held, sandwiched between the two people he loves most in the world. _This is where I’m supposed to be._

“Mmhmm, darlin’,” Alec nuzzles his nose beneath Eliot’s ear, the teases the lobe with his lips, “this is definitely where you’re supposed to be.” And so what he thought that last bit out loud, it’s okay because he’s safe and warm and _home_ and he knows can let go because they’re gonna take care of him, just as much as he takes care of them.

Because that’s what they do.

**Author's Note:**

> I had an inkling to make this smutty, but I figured I'd wait and see if there was interest in that. I could add another chapter with more porn, less plot. Still lots of feelings. Let me know in the comments if you'd like that!
> 
> If you liked this, I'd appreciate a reblog here [on tumblr](https://judithandronicus.tumblr.com/post/637232317958701056/chapters-11-fandom-leverage-rating-teen-and-up). 
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/JudithAndronic1) or [tumblr](https://judithandronicus.tumblr.com).


End file.
